


The Mutiny

by madeitsimple



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Possessive Tony Stark, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers puts up with so much, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeitsimple/pseuds/madeitsimple
Summary: Tony and Steve have to share a bed for a few nights. Of course, things get complicated.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 370





	The Mutiny

Tony wasn’t in the habit of praying, but he closed his eyes anyway and mumbled a few words approximating faith before plunging his hand into the repurposed candy bowl. He shuffled around the two pieces of paper that were left, mixing them up for far longer than was necessary. 

“Oh my god, Tony, we’re aging here, just pick one,” Natasha shifted her luggage from one shoulder to the other. “These bags aren’t getting any lighter.” 

For good measure, Tony moved the slips of paper around a few more times before holding his breath and finally pulling one out. As he unfolded it, Sam peered over his shoulder and did a little fistpump of victory. 

His heart sank. “438,” Tony said, resigned. 

There were smothered giggles and a yelp of laughter from Peter. At his left, Steve let out a low sigh that was either disappointment or resignation or both.

“You got room 438, which means the last number left is 436, which means, I get my own room.” Sam practically danced around the lobby of the small Swiss hotel they were crammed into. It had a chalet feel that was more Matterhorn and lederhosen than Tony cared for, but a scheduling snafu had them all stuck here. 

“This is ridiculous,” he protested. “There’s no way this happening.” 

“It’s four nights, Tony,” Natasha said. “You survived in a cave for months. You’ll be fine.” 

“Are you kidding me? First of all, this drawing is rigged.” Tony planted his feet even as the others began to collect their bags and move to the elevator. “We already drew lots once, I don’t see why we had to do it again.” 

“Because the first time we did it Natasha ended up bunking with Peter,” Steve said. “Do you want to explain to May why her 16-year-old nephew spent the week sharing a bed with the Black Widow?” 

“I have seniority here. If that counts for anything. Considering I’m the one funding this entire operation, I’m entitled to a little privacy.” It was a desperate move, but Tony had no qualms about pulling the money card. 

“You lost fair and square,” Sam said as they all crowded into one elevator. “There’s about 100 hotel rooms in this entire town and over a 150 people here for this UN conference. You do the math. Sorry man, but fair’s fair.” 

He turned to the kid. “Peter, I’ll give you a million dollars to switch numbers with me.” Tony looked hopefully at the kid, who he had invited at the last minute. Peter just shook his head, grinning. 

“You know, you’re not even supposed to be here,” he said. 

“ Mr. Stark, I can’t help it if you told me to come to this thing but then didn’t change the reservation.” 

“Fine. I’ll just sleep on the jet. It’s only three nights, right? How hard can that be.” 

“It’s four nights,” Steve said as the elevator dinged to a stop. “You know, I’m starting to take this personally.” 

“Actually, I don’t see why you’re taking this so well.” Tony eyed him suspiciously. “I should be the last person you want to share a room with.” 

“Oh, you are.” Steve walked off first, but held his hand against the door while the others stepped off. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But I also know when to just suck it up.”

They split down the hall and Tony was left with the sinking realization that he and Steve would be sharing tight quarters for the next few days. His stomach flopped a little at the thought of lying next to him in bed. It was uneasiness, he told himself, not excitement, that made his pulse race a little. 

“See you love birds in morning.” Sam let out a little wolf whistle before he disappeared down the hall. 

Steve pushed the door to room 438 open and looked at Tony with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “You want to carry me over the threshold?” 

Had he been in a more charitable mood, Tony would have been charmed by the room in front of him. Rustic wood beams ran the length of the ceiling and a large window offered a stunning view of the Alps. An overstuffed sofa and two sitting chairs framed an already roaring fire. Tucked into the far corner was a bed pilled high with pillows and soft looking linens. It was big enough to fit two people, provided those two people weren’t particular about maintaining personal space. The coziness of the room made Tony’s palms itch, as if it was another factor conspiring against him, testing his resolve. In any other instance, it would have been romantic. Right now, it was just...inappropriate. 

“What side of the bed do you want?” Steve asked. He frowned at the couch, which looked comfortable but not large enough to sleep a grown man. 

Resigned to his fate, Tony flopped down on the bed still in his coat as Steve moved around the room, unpacking. He hung up his suits, and Tony’s too, before kicking lightly at Tony’s legs with his foot. It had been a long flight on the heels of an even longer day, and despite his reluctance over the sleeping arrangements, he was glad to be stationary for a bit. The fire had warmed the room nicely, and the soft yellow lights made everything feel cozy. He stared at Steve standing above him, before holding out a hand to be helped up. 

They had been through all kinds of missions together, spent hour after hour sequestered together in the compound or on the QuinJet, and yet Tony had difficulty recalling if the two had ever been alone together like this, in the quiet end of a day. 

“Side by the door’s mine,” he mumbled as Steve yanked him up. He patted Steve on the shoulder and stepped into the washroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. They swapped places 10 minutes later and by the time Steve emerged from his turn in the bathroom, Tony was buried under the covers. 

They had spent a lot of time together over the years and Tony had seen Steve in pretty much ever state of dress and undress through all that time. He’d seen Steve shirtless often enough and had even (accidentally) walked in on him once while he was showering. Still, in all that time, he’d never seen Steve like this. His face was freshly scrubbed, his hair slightly damp at the temples and brow. Barefoot and clad only in a worn Army t-shirt and a pair of soft looking plaid pajama pants, he looked vulnerable in a way Tony hadn’t anticipated. The sight of his bare toes curled against the cold floor was somehow more intimate than seeing him naked. 

“What?” Steve frowned at him as he got into bed. 

“Nothing,” Tony said. “I honest to god thought you’d be a naked sleeper is all. Like, maybe that super solider serum keeps you running hot.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

There was the tell tale flinch of Steve’s jaw that meant he was annoyed. “I get cold easy,” was all he said before he pulled the covers up around his shoulders and curled onto his side. 

In his mind, Tony had always imagined that Steve slept ramrod straight -- on his back, hands folded across his chest -- as if he were still encased in ice. He watched as Steve turned away from him, his body curling into itself. He looked so defenseless Tony felt a sudden, wild urge to stay up all night and stand guard. 

“Will it bother you if I turn on the TV?” Tony asked instead, his hand already reaching for the remote. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll have it on for five, ten minutes, tops.” 

“No.” 

“I’ll watch on mute,” Tony tried. 

“Go to sleep, Tony.” 

He put the remote down with an annoyed huff but it was mostly for show. There was no privacy in a bed this small. Even though they both stuck close to their sides, he could already feel the heat of Steve’s body drifting across the bed, the smell of his soap and toothpaste in the air. 

“Are you a cuddler?” Tony directed his question Steve’s back. “I just want to be prepared in case I wake up wrapped up in some kind of tight, super solider embrace that I can’t break out of…”

“Tony!” Steve snapped at him again and Tony shut up for good. 

For a long moment there was nothing but quiet and the soft sound of Steve’s breathing, growing heavier and slower. Tony laid there, staring past the broad plane of Steve’s back and watched the endless fall of snow through the open curtains. He felt certain that he’d never fall asleep, that despite the warmth of the room and the pleasing cloud-like quality of the mattress, his eyes would stay open all night watching the snow cover the Alps and bury them both until they were cold and shivering, and his arms and legs, desperate and searching for warmth, detached from his body and in an act of mutiny, wrapped themselves around Steve's waist.

He woke with a gasp, startled by the image in his mind. It was still dark outside and through the open curtains Tony could see the snow still falling in light, swirling waves. Steve had turned on his side again, this time facing Tony. He slept in a C-shape curve, arms tucked under the pillow. Through the darkness, Tony could make out the shadow of eyelashes against his cheek, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Under the covers, their knees were already touching and Tony thought nothing of moving a little closer and throwing a lose arm across Steve’s waist.

There were boundaries between the two of them that didn’t get crossed, and despite the small bed and the cold night, there was a distant, rational part of him that knew this was a bad idea. They were both too volatile, too stubborn, for anything romantic to be a good idea. His brain understood the message well, but in this bed though, curled together in sleep, his body, traitorous and rebellious, had no chance of obeying. As he fell back asleep, Tony tried to direct his fingers to uncurl from around Steve’s waist, but instead they just brushed the bare, soft skin under his shirt. 

***

“Is it cute snoring? Or like the loud, smother-him-with-a-pillow snoring?” Nat’s voice drifted up to him as he reached their table. 

He and Steve had arrived at the official UN kick-off breakfast together, only to be pulled apart by diplomats in nicely press suits the minute they’d walked through the door. He’s been standing around talking shop and promising favors for 30 minutes before finding a way to excuse himself. 

“Hey, I don’t snore.” Tony didn’t even have to feign indignation. Pepper had never once complained about him snoring. 

“You do,” Steve said. He pushed back his chair so Tony could squeeze into the seat between them. “Just like a WWII jet plane.” 

“Funny,” he mumbled as Sam laughed. As compensation for the slight, he grabbed a fork and began to pick at the fruit and eggs on Steve’s plate.

“I’m surprised you guys made it through the first night unscathed,” Natasha said. “My money’s on one of you leaving after the third night.” 

“I got one of you storming out by night two,” Sam said with a grin. “The kid’s the only one who has you guys staying together all four.” 

Steve looked aghast. “Wait, you’re betting on us?” 

“Prop bets.” Natasha shrugged her shoulders. “What? This is a once in a lifetime thing. You can’t expect us not to have fun with it.” 

Sam pulled out a little sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “Did y’all fight about the TV yet?” he asked, eyes skimming the page. 

“Yes,” Steve said. 

“No,” Tony said at the same. “We had a mild disagreement about it.” 

Sam did a little fist pump and pretended to tick off a box. “That’s me and the kid. We took the under on that one.” 

“Look, despite what he claims, Cap here slept like a log.” Steve didn’t bother to correct him. They’d both slept well. Surprising well, actually. 

Before Sam could continue, Steve pushed his plate towards Tony and laid his hands on the table. There was always a little flick in his eyes, a twitch of his jaw, that indicated it was time to get serious. Their MO here was to divide and conquer, the four of them hitting up as many hearings and committee meetings as they could. Policy was made at these things, and they couldn’t afford to not have a voice at the table. Their roles were clear. Natasha and Sam would lead the charm offensive, Tony would toe the UN line of cooperation and oversight, while Steve, for once, played agitator, pushing for more freedom and autonomy. 

“You ready?” Steve asked pushing his chair back. His face had transformed completely. Whatever softness Tony had seen the night before vanished without a trace. A little crease appeared between his brow and his mouth narrowed to thin, stern line. It was his public face, the one that screamed Captain America, not Steve Rogers. 

“Always,” Tony said. He reached up, straightened Steve’s tie, and led them out to meet the rest of the world.

***

“It could have gone better, I’ll admit that much.” 

“Could have gone better?” Steve hissed. “You almost got us disbarred from the entire organization.” 

“Actually, it doesn’t work that way,” Tony said. He walked quickly to keep up with Steve’s pissed off pace. “Technically, we’re here as liaisons. They can kick us out, yes, but disbarring, that’s not really…”

“You know what I mean,” Steve snapped. Even in the dark, Tony could see Steve’s eyes flash in anger. 

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re so mad at me anyway. You’re the one who’s always arguing for more autonomy. I was only doing what you would do. There’s no reason…”

“Oh no no.” He whirled around to face Tony, stopping in the middle of the busy sidewalk. Little bits of snow had already started to cling to his hair and coat. “You were not arguing for autonomy. You were grandstanding. The Latvian Ambassador made an official request for our help, and instead of declining, you hacked into their military servers and told them to go fuck themselves." 

Tony wanted to argue, but that was in fact what had happened, right down to the language he’d used. 

“In my defense," Tony said, but Steve was already stalking away. Tony chased after him, talking to Steve’s angry, retreating back. “In my defense, they were basically asking for our help with a military coup. Actually, not even _our_ help. _Your help_. Captain America’s.”

Steve stopped short again, this time in front of one of the many decorative little Swiss shops that lined the main streets of this picturesque little village. “The entire point of this week is diplomacy, Tony. There are other ways to say no. We’re barely through the first day and you can’t keep your ego in check.” 

“My ego?” Tony barked out a laugh. “The only reason we’re in this mess is because of your ego. Her entire pitch was one big ego stroke for you. She was flirting with you! 

“Flirting with me?” Steve’s eyes widened and he resumed his long, angry strides. “It’s called being polite. The motion was never going to pass. I was never going to allow it.” 

“You know, you pretend to be all tough and moral but when a pretty woman comes along, asking for help with a military coup…” 

“You’re being an idiot.” Steve snapped at him again, his shoulders bunched up around his ears. 

Tony marched alongside him, only a fraction less furious. He wasn’t sorry for dismantling the ambassador’s flimsy excuse for help, but how quickly he’d snapped had surprised even him. One minute, they were discussing a potential mission informally, the three of them huddled by Steve’s seat. But then she had leaned forward, brushed her hand along Steve’s leg, and the next thing he knew, Tony had hacked into a few secure servers. By the time she made a formal request for help, he had more data then he needed to prove an ulterior motive. 

“It wasn’t a humanitarian mission, Steve, she wanted you to back up their military so she could depose the country’s president,” Tony grumbled. 

Steve glared at him again and kept walking. “I’m not an idiot Tony, I knew something wasn’t right.” 

“She’s basically a spy. Like an evil one. Not a good one, like Natasha. I’m pretty sure I did a good thing here.” 

“God, you don’t listen do you. I told you, I had it handled. But you had to swoop in and blow everything up.” 

“I’m just efficient is all,” Tony mumbled. “I didn’t blow anything up. I just work faster than the CIA.” 

They walked the rest of the way back in silence, trudging through the wet, slushy snow and Tony regretted not calling a car. By the time they reached the hotel 15 minutes later, Tony was freezing though somewhat calmer. 

“It wasn’t grandstanding, OK. It was just...research," he said, as they made their way up to their room. 

“What you did could get you in real trouble. Why do you never realize that?” Steve held his gaze for a moment, before pushing open the door to their room. Like a gentleman, he waited for Tony to walk through it first. 

There was no place to escape in a room this small and despite chaffing at each other for most of the evening, they were able to settle into a tense silence. They changed clothes, and Tony plopped down on one of the overstuffed chairs by the fire place, watching as Steve stacked a few logs in the hearth and lit a match. 

“Why did it bother you so much?” Steve asked, his voice still a little clipped. 

“Why did what bother me?” 

Steve stayed bent over the logs, poking at the flame. “You thought the ambassador was flirting with me. Why did it bother you so much?” 

Tony balked. “I...What? It didn’t. That’s not why…” 

“Yes, it is. You thought she was flirting with me and you flipped out.” Steve stood up and laid his hands on his hips. His voice was calm but his posture demanded an answer. “Why?”

For a long moment, Tony said nothing. 

“I don’t care that she flirted with you,” he said finally. He could feel the lie through his body, was sure Steve saw it too. He looked down at his hands instead of meeting Steve’s eyes. “I just didn’t want us getting caught up in what was clearly a military operation.” When he looked up, Steve was still starring at him, mouth in that same stern line. 

“That’s it? No other reason?” Steve asked. There was a flicker of hurt across his face and Tony opened his mouth to speak, to try to dissuade Steve of whatever notions he might have. Before he could, Steve cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything.” He brushed his hands clear of the dirt from the logs and grabbed his coat from the closet. 

“Steve...” 

“I said forget it, Tony.” 

He slammed the door on his way out. 

***

Tony spent a long time staring into the fire and thinking about Steve’s question before doing what he usually did when he felt out of sorts. He went to see Peter. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a dinner or something?” Peter was sprawled across his bed in jeans and an oversize Stark Industries sweatshirt, playing a video game. He looked unsurprised to see him. 

“Why aren’t you locking your doors?” Tony sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Peter punched at the buttons on his Switch. His room was much smaller, barely large enough for a bed, but it had the same big window and great view. 

“Sam’s bringing me a pizza because the intern dinner was not that great. It was all cheese and weird meat.” 

Tony kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable as Peter recounted his day. The depth of Peter’s excitement and the genuine awe with which he experienced the world never ceased to amaze him. He let Peter’s voice wash over him, his effusiveness crumbling away some of his sour mood. 

“I know it’s not exactly bringing down a Latvian spy or anything, but my day was pretty good,” Peter finished at last. A few minutes later, Sam rapped on the door. He was holding, Tony was pleased to see, a very large pizza. 

“Kid, next time get your own delivery.” 

He was dressed to go out, his daytime suit replaced with dark slacks and a cream button down shirt with just one too many buttons open. If he was surprised to see Tony squatting in a room that wasn’t his, he didn’t show it. “Did you get kicked out?” he asked. “I had you getting kicked out the first night, honestly. Nat has you getting kicked out on night two.” 

“Wait, did you and Captain Rogers fight?” Peter picked his head up from the screen. He looked mildly panicked. “Is that what happened?” 

“I did not get kicked out, ok. I just came to check in on Peter. That’s it.” 

“How long has he been here?”

“Like, an hour?” Peter glanced at the bedside clock. “Maybe 90 minutes?” He and Sam exchanged a look. 

“I left! No one got kicked out. I’m just giving Steve some space. It’s fine.” 

“Definitely sounds like you got kicked out.” Natasha appeared behind Sam, dressed in a fitted black jumpsuit. She looked stunning. Whatever she and Sam were doing, it involved more than video games and pizza. “You ready?” She offered Sam her arm. 

“After you.” Sam linked his arm through hers and gave them a little wave good night. 

There were plenty of parties tonight, and even a few Tony wouldn’t have minded going to. It wasn’t too late to change into something nice and head back out, but his heart wasn’t in it. He thought about the look on Steve’s face and the flicker of disappointment in his eyes when Tony had dodged his question. With a sigh, he heaved himself off Peters bed. He grabbed what was left of Peter’s pizza and headed back to their room, where Steve was already settled in on the couch, nose buried in a briefing binder. He looked up when Tony entered, but didn’t say anything. 

“I brought a peace offering, OK?” He gave the pizza box a little shake. It was past 9 and neither of them had eaten. Reluctantly, Steve put down the binder and made space for Tony to sit. 

They ate mostly in silence, alternately watching the fire or swiping through their phones, but it was easier than before. For the first time all day, Tony felt himself relax. 

“It didn’t bother me the she was flirting with you,” Tony said after they’d polished off the pizza and he'd brushed the crumbs off his hands. “Well, it wasn’t the only thing.” 

“I said forget about it.“ Steve kept his eyes on his phone, but Tony saw the twitch of his jaw.

He stood up from the sofa and stared at him, to see if Steve would break. When he didn’t, Tony moved to get ready for bed. 

“You were flirting back,” Tony said from the bathroom doorway. This time Steve looked up, his face lit golden by the fire. “That’s what really bothered me.” He held Steve’s gaze for a fraction, before shutting the door.

Later, when Steve slid into bed wearing the same soft pajama pants and gray t-shirt, he tossed Tony the TV remote. 

“10 minutes. Max.” 

He settled on Die Hard 2 and watched propped up on a few pillows while Steve lay flat on the bed. “Is this the one in the tower?” Steve yawned again, his voice coming from beside Tony’s waist. 

“No, this is the one where she’s trapped in the plane.” 

"Oh," Steve yawned again, wider this time, his jaw almost splitting in two.

He kept up a soft running commentary on the finer plot points of the film while Steve’s breathing grew slower and deeper. When he switched it off 20 minutes later, Steve was fast asleep with Tony’s fingers tangled in his hair. 

*** 

In public, Tony’s body had no problem behaving itself. His arms and legs and hands and feet kept themselves to themselves and let Steve exist in peace without an onslaught of casual, physical affection. There was no placing of hands on his knee or thigh or even a shoulder. When they sat next to each other during committee meetings, his elbow never grazed Steve’s, their fingers never “accidentally” touched. 

He was aware though, almost constantly, of the nearness of Steve’s body, as if whatever happened while they slept together never fully left him. He had woken up this morning with his limbs thrown over Steve in a way that was so proprietary, so territorial, it had embarrassed even him. He mumbled an apology as he slid his arm off of Steve’s waist, pulled his thigh back from where it was shoved between Steve’s legs. It was a small mercy that he’d slept mostly on his stomach and his morning erection was pressing into the mattress instead of along Steve’s back. 

It would have been easier if Steve objected to Tony covering him like a blanket, but he had merely propped himself up on his elbows and seemed in no hurry to leave the bed. “It’s nice,” he said almost shyly. “I don’t mind it, Tony.” 

They had taken their time getting ready, putting on silk shirts and ties and trim wool suits, before finally stepping out of their room. As Steve opened the door, Tony had been unable to stop himself from smoothing his hands down Steve’s shirt, touching once again without permission. 

“So, you guys haven’t slept together yet?” He turned around at the sound of Natasha’s voice behind him. There was break between speeches, and she’d found him hiding in an empty conference room. 

“Technically, all we’ve been doing is sleeping together.” Tony willfully misunderstood her question. “The bed’s supposed to be a queen but really it’s like a twin, and trust me, Steve takes up way more space than you’d think.” 

“I’m asking if you’ve had sex yet,” she said. 

Tony’s face flushed, the mention of it enough to make his stomach flip. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, glancing up to make sure the room was still empty. “No. Of course not.” 

“It’s not totally out of the realm of possibility. You, Steve, a small bed, a romantic setting…” 

“You’re sick you know that. It’s not happening. Not now, not ever.” 

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a way that Tony didn’t like, and she smiled at him over her coffee cup. “But it doesn’t mean you don’t want to right? The way you’re going red right now pretty much answers that question.” 

“What I want has nothing to do with anything.” There was real annoyance in his voice this time. 

“Look, I’m mostly kidding, but don’t act like it’s not obvious. I’m just saying, it’s harder to ignore something if you have to share a bed with it.” 

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” He stepped around her and made for the exit, but Nat grabbed his arm. “If you want something, you should do something about it. Don’t keep him waiting forever. It’s not fair.” 

Before he could respond, Steve popped his head in the door. 

“Hey, there you guys are. Session’s already started, let’s go.” 

***

For once, Tony was grateful for the monotony of policy making. He was adept at this part of the job, knew how to shake hands, work a room, say just enough to make the right people think he was on their side. Like his father, he knew how to put on a show. Still, it was exhausting. By the time evening rolled around, his head throbbed and jaw ached from smiling so much. After his last meeting, he escaped back to their room, loosened his tie and collapsed on the sofa. He drifted for how long he wasn’t sure. When he opened his eyes again, Steve was bent over the fire place. 

“You really love making fires don’t you.” Tony took a deep breath, and yawned and stretched, trying to wake himself up more fully. 

“It relaxes me,” Steve said. Even though his back was turned, Tony could hear the smile in his voice. He arranged the logs again, poked at the flame that had just began to flicker. When he was satisfied with it, he came and sat next to Tony on the sofa. 

“We used to have a fire place, in Brooklyn. When I was growing up. My mom worked long hours most of the time, so I always liked to have it going by the time she came home in winter.” He stared into the fire, lost in the memory. 

“She was a nurse?” Tony asked, even though he already knew. 

Steve nodded. “Red Cross after the war started, but before that at Brooklyn General. She did a lot for a single mom. We never had money to do much, but sitting around the fire, listening to the radio, it was nice.”

Steve’s face was cast in a warm, yellow glow. For a moment Tony wanted to reach over, tip their faces together and kiss him. He knew that if he did, Steve wouldn’t object. 

“You never talk about her,” Tony said.

Steve turned to him, the sadness of lingering memory across his face. “You never really ask.” 

The truth was that all Tony knew about Steve’s past had come from museum exhibits and his father’s papers, an oversight that he was deeply ashamed about now. He put a hand on Steve’s knee and squeezed it in apology. He left it there until it was time to dress for dinner. 

***

“They don’t like it when you do that.” Tony jumped a little at the sound of Peter’s voice behind him. He picked up the place card anyway and swapped it for the one he was holding in his hand. 

“How’d you sneak in here?” Tony asked. This was a formal, black-tie dinner. Tuxedos, sophisticated dresses, not one meant for interns. Peter puffed up his chest a little and Tony had to bite back a smile. He looked adorable in his tux, though his bow-tie was a little askew. “Natasha brought me as her plus one. Mr. Stark, this place is incredible. They have this like, giant chocolate fountain thing in the corner. It’s easily as tall as me.” 

Tony had long ago been rendered immune to the charms of fancy dinners but it was nice to see it again through Peter’s eyes. It was part of the reason he’d brought Peter along. They still couldn’t tell anyone he was Spider-Man but he would eventually have a hand in running the Avengers. It was important to Tony he learn both sides of the superhero business. 

“Anyway,” Peter said, not letting up. “I think it’s cute. You’re switching place cards so you can sit next to Steve. Like I always swap seats so I can sit next to MJ.” 

“It’s not cute,” Tony mumbled. “It’s a professional courtesy. This way I don’t get stuck next to the ambassador from England and he doesn’t have to make small talk with the French attorney general. I’m just preventing social awkwardness.” 

“Mmmhmm.” Peter nodded his head, like he understood everything. “But, I mean, it’s really because you like him a lot. It’s cute.”

“We’re adults, Peter. We don’t “like” each other. We work together. We’re colleagues.”

“You guys are sharing the same bed,” Peter laughed. 

“And whose fault is that again?” Tony glared at the kid, but it had no affect. 

“Look, I know I’m just a kid, but it was really hard having a crush on MJ and not saying anything about it to her, you know, because I just ended up acting totally crazy and she was like, _‘Peter why are you acting totally crazy,_ ’ and I tried to tell her, I really did, but I just got scared or nervous or whatever, until I finally just had to get it over with because it was seriously ruining our friendship and like, that’s the last thing you want to do, right?” 

He stopped to take a big gulp of air but Tony put a hand over his mouth before he could continue. “Nope, that’s it, you’re done. Thank you, very much, for that bit of hard earned wisdom, but Steve and I are fine. Now, go. Go, find your table. The speeches are starting.” 

Peter slinked away but he’d made his point. Tony was still thinking about his advice when Steve made his way over to the table. “They get mad when you switch the name cards around like this,” he said, pulling out his chair. 

“You want to sit next to the French attorney general all night? Be my guest.” It was a petty move, changing the place cards around, as if that even had any real meaning. These types of dinners were for mingling and shaking even more hands, but the thought of Steve across the room and away from him all evening agitated him. He was being irrationally possessive, but Tony found he didn’t much care. 

The evening was long, seemingly interminable, but he took comfort in the fact that, even has people began to get up and move around, Steve never strayed too far from his side. They stayed long enough to be polite, talking and laughing and posing for photos, but when Steve turned to him and sighed, “I’m tired,” Tony squeezed his hand and lead him back home. 

Except it wasn’t home, not really. Their room had started to feel more and more comfortable but Tony was keenly aware of the clock winding down on this little bit of indulgence. It was for the best, he tried to convince himself, that he only had two nights left to chatter at Steve while they brushed their teeth at adjoining sinks. And only two nights left of watching Steve putter around the room in pajamas, checking the locks and poking at the fire. Neither of them was built for domesticity, but they had settled into a comfortable routine in just a couple of days, and Tony felt a sharp pang of grief at the thought of giving it up. 

By the time Steve slipped into bed, Tony had no semblance of will power or self control left. As Steve curled onto his side, Tony slid an arm across his waist, and pulled him close till they were flush against each other. Steve stiffened briefly under his touch, before relaxing against him. There was no cover of sleep to hide under this time. He grasped Tony’s hand and pulled it tighter around his chest. 

“Tony,” Steve whispered. 

He didn’t answer, just buried his nose in the short hairs at the back of Steve’s neck and inhaled deeply. What he was doing wasn’t fair to either of them, he knew that, but he couldn’t resist. His mind tried to reason with him, but his body couldn’t, wouldn’t obey.He knew though that if Steve turned to face him, tried to really kiss him, he would run. 

Tony’s dreams were fragments of heat and desire, images and flashes of all the things coiled inside him that he hadn’t dared to think about in the light of day. When he woke up, he was hard and aching, his erection resting heavy against his thigh. He groaned and tried to untangle himself from Steve’s grasp but Steve, still half asleep, pushed back against him, rubbing his backside against the hard length of Tony’s dick. 

“Fuck,” Tony hissed. His hands went around Steve’s hips and he rocked against him, nuzzling into the curve of Steve’s neck. Steve curled their fingers together and let out a soft little moan that made his dick jump. In his sleepy haze, Tony lingered in the heat between them, physical sensation overwhelming any kind of reason. He pushed his erection against the soft curve of Steve’s ass, and bit down on his neck, making Steve arch against him. With a curse, Steve took their clasped hands and shoved them down his pants, wrapping them around his own dick. 

“Oh, god,” Tony gasped at the feel of him, hot and hard in his hand, but skin still so silky soft. Steve moaned again and began to pump their hands in short tight strokes. There was too much fabric in the way to do much else, but it was more than enough. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered softly as Steve’s body went rigid next to him and his already closed eyes squeezed shut even tighter. With a little hitch in his breath, Steve moaned Tony’s name and dug his foot into the mattress, coming in hot, wet spurts over both their hands. Tony sucked even harder at the curve of Steve’s neck and closed his own eyes, taking his come covered hand and stroking his own dick, pumping along his throbbing cock till he came moments later in loud, messy streaks along Steve’s rucked up shirt. 

They laid still for a few minutes, harsh panting filling the room. With the fog of desire and sex lifting, Tony came to his senses. “Shit.” He cursed and rolled onto his back, trying to get his breathing back under control. 

“Tony.” The bed shifted as Steve turned to face him. He laid a hand on Tony’s chest and bent down to kiss him. The press of his mouth was as soft and sweet as Tony had imagined. Despite not wanting to, he moaned into the touch, parting his lips a little as Steve pushed tentatively with his tongue. His hands, sticky with come, curled in Steve’s hair. It was good, far too good. With aching regret, he wrenched his mouth away and gently pushed Steve aside. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He flipped back the covers and thew his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to Steve. “That was a bad idea.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Steve’s face fall. “I’m sorry. I got carried away the past few days. I know it’s my fault. But this is...it’s just a bad idea, Steve. It was a dumb thing to do.” 

“What if I don’t think this was a mistake?” Steve said. His eyes were warm and hopeful, and the expression in his face crushed Tony even more. Steve reached out for his hand but Tony shook him off and fled to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned on the shower and stood under the spray for a long time, coming out only after he was certain Steve had left the room.

***

Through some creative skulking, he managed to avoid not just Steve but Sam and Natasha for most of the morning. His luck didn’t last past lunch though, when Sam cornered him in an alcove off the main room. 

“What are you doing, Tony?” Sam looked weary and annoyed, and Tony wondered just how much Steve had told him. 

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’ I’m trying to survive the last few hours of this never ending conference so we can all go home. That’s all I’m trying to do.” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” There was nothing light in Sam’s tone, just the deadpan seriousness that meant whoever was on the receiving end was in trouble. 

“I do not, actually, know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Tony said, even though he knew exactly what Sam was talking about. 

“You gotta stop messing with him, Tony. I don’t know exactly what happened last night, but he was pretty messed up this morning. If you keep pushing, you’re gonna hurt him, and hurt him bad.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m trying to keep him from getting hurt. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” Tony looked down at his shoes, his heart aching at the memory of that brief, crestfallen look on Steve’s face.

Sam shook his head, clearly not satisfied with Tony’s response. “Anyone can see something’s going on with you two.” 

“Nothing’s going on.” Nothing had happened that Tony wasn’t willing to bury forever, but Sam didn’t buy it. 

“Don’t lie to me. Even if a clearly fucked up Steve hadn’t come knocking on my door this morning, you’ve been all over him, all weekend. You pick food of his plate, you always sit next to him. You jump if someone tries to touch him. It’s like…” 

“Like what?” Tony said. 

“Like you’re marking your territory. Like Steve is a thing that belongs only to you.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” Tony said, out loud. Internally, his mind screamed, _that’s because he does_. 

“Is it? Anytime someone gets within 2 feet of him, you’re at his side. For four days you’ve run interference on anyone that tries to get near him. He’s had a Tony Stark shadow following him around all damn week. You know there’s even a meme about it? “If you want to find Tony Stark in a crowded room all you have to do is look for Steve Rogers.” It’s all over the internet.”

“We have to work together, where else am I supposed to be?”

“You took down the Latvian ambassador because she talked to him for too long.” 

It was Tony’s turn to glare. “That was an unintended side affect! Plus, she was practically giving him a hand job in public.” 

“Her hand was on his knee!” 

“On his thigh!” Tony said. “It was on his thigh. Like, way up on the inside of his thigh. I was helping him out.” 

“Steve’s a grown man, Tony, he can take care of himself.” Sam gave him a look that was half pity, half fury. “He’s in love with you, Tony. And I know you love him.” Tony’s heart jumped into this throat, the quiet certainty in Sam’s voice nothing he could argue against. “What’s worse is that you know he loves you but you’re too chicken shit to do anything about it. Instead, you’re just leading him on and making him miserable.” 

“It’s not that simple,” he said quietly. 

“You’re a dumb motherfucker you know that.” 

Tony’s temper flared and he almost turned on his heel and walked away, but Sam grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“How many people have you gone out with since you and Pepper broke up?” Sam held Tony’s gaze, daring him to look away. 

Tony flinched a little. “What does that have to do with it.” 

Sam’s jaw was twitching, just like Steve’s did. “By my count it’s at least 7. I don’t care if you’re sleeping with them or not, but what do you think it does to him, to see that?” 

“I’m not sleeping with them,” Tony said quietly. “It’s just,” he waved his hands around a little. “Showmanship. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You think that matters?” Sam looked at him intently. “You caused an international incident because Steve smiled a little too long at a woman, and all this time he’s been watching from the sideline as person after person gets to hang off your arm, while you smile for the cameras. I don’t know what happened last night, but I can guess. He’s hurt, man. He’s really hurt. And I know it’s your fault.” 

There was no arguing back. Sam was right and Tony knew it.

“It’s for his own good,” Tony said, defeated. “Trust me. You know me. I’m fucked up in a thousand different ways. Is that what you want for him?” 

Sam shook his head, that same sad look on his face. “He’s a grown man, Tony. I trust him to figure out what he wants for himself. You should too.”

He walked away, leaving Tony alone in the corner, staring blankly at the cold, snowy vastness of the mountains in front of him. All morning he had tried to push their brief love making out of his mind, but he knew the feel of Steve’s body, of him hard and aching in his hand, would stay with him always. There was only one choice that Tony had in all of this, but rather than run to it, he slipped out a side door and chartered a very last minute, very expensive private plane back to New York. 

*** 

In the end, he only beat the team back to the compound by a few hours. He was jet lagged and dazed, staring vacantly into the fridge when Natasha called his name. She leaned against the kitchen counter and fixed him with a stare. 

“Looks like I won that bet. I knew you wouldn’t make it all four nights.” She kept talking when he didn’t answer. “I guess I should say thanks for leaving us the plane. At least we had a way to get back home.” 

“You’re early,” Tony said. “You’re not due back until tomorrow.” 

‘We cut it short. Wasn’t much reason to stay after the final session. No one felt like going to one last formal dinner.” 

Tony nodded. “The kid get home OK?” 

Natasha peered over his shoulder, began to pull out some pita bread, veggies and hummus. “Happy’s driving him back to Queens. He’s worried you’re mad at him.” 

“Why would I be mad at him?” 

“Because you fucking ditched him in another country, Tony!” Natasha slammed down the knife she’d picked up. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t understand that you did something monumentally stupid, and, rather than face up to it, you cut and run.”

“You know, I’m getting pretty tired of people yelling at me.” 

“Then stop doing dumb shit,” Natasha snapped. “Steve didn’t come back with us, you know that? He’s not at the compound Tony.” 

Tony’s heart sank. “Where is he?” 

“His place in D.C. I think. Said he needed some space.” 

“Oh.” Tony didn’t even know Steve still kept up with his lease there. There was a lot, it turned out, that he hadn’t paid attention to. 

He watched in silence as Natasha cut up the pita bread and sliced a few vegetables. She pushed the plate of hummus at him, as she took a bite. “Here,” she said. “Eat.” They sat at the island, exhausted and weary, eating off the same plate. 

“Maybe it was a mistake, tricking you guys into a sharing a room. I’m starting to regret it now,” she said.

“What?” Tony looked up, mid-chew. 

“We rigged the drawing, Tony. All the numbers said 438. The first drawing was legit, but the second time, Peter wrote 438 on all the slips of paper and mixed them up. When he pulled out his number, he just pretended he got something else. We all did. You didn’t really bother to double check.” 

He stared at her for a second, mouth gape at their little deception. “Did Steve know?” 

“Probably,” Natasha said. “You just saw what you wanted to see. I think he caught on pretty quick. You’ve been dancing around him for too long Tony. We thought sharing a room might make you face things.” 

“That was a dirty trick.” He wanted to be angry or even annoyed, but it seemed clear that he’d let himself get suckered. 

“Sometimes you act like you’re the only one with feelings,” she chided him quietly, her initial burst of anger spent. “I don’t know what happened with you two, but you just,” she paused for a second and threw up her hands. “You made him sad. He doesn’t open up to anyone like he does to you. You have to fix this, Tony. You have to at least talk to him.”

“I know.” He looked down blankly at the efficient plate of crudiete Natasha had managed to assemble within minutes and felt a rush of fondness for her. The best friends, of course, were the ones that called you on your shit but fed you while doing it. He was the one who had run away from Steve and his regret was starting to catch up to him. He gave Natasha a quick squeeze and kissed the top of her head with affection. Then, he walked to his room, changed out of his suit and asked FRIDAY to pull one of the faster cars out of the garage. It was time to go to D.C. 

***

It was close to 2am when he knocked on Steve’s door. He took a deep breath and waited as he heard footsteps nearing the door. There was a long pause of quiet, as Steve gauged whether or not to let him in. 

“Steve,” he called. “It’s me. Let me in, please.” 

Steve looked neither surprised nor pleased to see him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, before Steve could say anything. “Can I come in?” 

He lingered in the doorway till Steve stepped aside. The small foyer led to a larger living room connected to a small kitchen, with three large windows along the west side, offering a nice view of downtown D.C. The place was cozy in a way that the compound would probably never be. He wasn’t sure how often Steve came back here, but understood why he kept it. It was his place, and his alone. Somewhere free of the Avengers. 

“What are you doing here, Tony?” He sounded about as tired as Tony felt. 

“I acted like a dick. I know that,” he said. Steve didn’t correct him, just shook his head. “I’m sorry I ran, ok? I just…” he trailed off, unsure of what he’d even come here to say. He had driven four hours and each second had been filled with the need to ease some of the pain he’d caused. Now that he was here, words were in short supply. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. 

“I’m fine,” Steve said with a curt nod. “You were right, it was a bad idea. You can go back to New York with a clear conscience. We’re fine.” 

“Are we?” He looked at Steve, in a different pair of pajama pants and another soft, cotton t-shirt. This one, Tony realized with a pang, bore the logo of Peter’s high school, Midtown Science and Tech. 

“I don’t want anything you don’t want Tony,” he said. “Forget anything happened.” He stood ramrod straight and his face had the chiseled stoniness of his Captain America mask. It was the look he wore for visiting dignitaries and photo ops. It broke Tony’s heart to see it directed at him. 

“That’s the problem though, I’m not going to forget,” Tony said. “I don’t want to forget. Even if my mind did, my body wouldn't.” He stepped a fraction closer to Steve who still hovered by the door, ready to bolt even though it was his apartment. “I can’t get rid of this and I don’t want to.”

“Then why did you leave?” Steve’s voice was quiet but there was a slight tremble to it. Tony went to him and stroked the side of his face. He saw the lines of exhaustion around his eyes and mouth, the slight stoop of even his strong shoulders. Tony had spent the last four days teasing and flirting and touching and Steve had withstood it all of it. As hard as it had been for Tony, it had probably been doubly so for Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Steve’s eyes softened just enough and Tony leaned in and kissed him, this time in apology. His mouth was soft and pliant, and he opened easily as Tony’s tongue pushed between his lips, licking at the inside of his mouth. He moaned again, a sound Tony knew he’d never get tired of hearing. 

“I panicked,” Tony said as they pulled apart. His fingers rucked up Steve’s shirt and trailed along the bare skin of his abdomen. “All this.” He stopped and kissed down Steve’s throat, pausing to lick at the hollow of his neck. “All this,” he said again, voice still muffled along his shoulder, “Can be a little scary.” 

Steve curled his fingers through Tony’s hair, tugging his face up. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” Tony kissed him again, harder this time, pushing into his mouth until Steve was groaning in protest. He wrenched his mouth away, gasping, as Tony traced the outline of his swollen lip with his thumb. 

“I’m not scared for me,” he said. He pushed the pad of his thumb inside Steve’s mouth, let Steve suck on it lightly while he talked. “I don’t want to hurt you, Steve. I don’t want to drive you away.” He kissed Steve again, holding his face in place with both hands, till Steve started to grind against him. “Good,” Tony whispered, feeling the hard length of Steve’s erection. 

“You won’t.” Steve moaned a little again as Tony pushed a thigh between them, gave Steve something to rub against. “I know what I’m getting into, Tony.”

Tony smiled against Steve’s neck, and pulled down the collar of his t-shirt to bite along his clavicle bone. “Sleeping next to you, and not being able to touch you, not like this, was torture.” Steve grasped at Tony’s hips and pulled him closer. He groaned as Tony bit down hard. “The first time I saw you in these damn pajamas, I thought about making you come in them.” 

Steve groaned his name again, rutting faster against his thigh, as Tony’s fingers began to skim along the waistband of his pants. “When the ambassador from Latvia touched you,” Steve started to say something but Tony cut him off by cupping him through his underwear. His briefs were damp with precome and Tony cursed at the heat of it in his hand, losing his train of thought before finding it again. “When she touched you, I lost it. I got jealous. Why should she get to touch something when I couldn’t.” 

Steve arched up into his touch, shoulders pushing against the door, and his hips made small, frantic little thrusts into Tony’s hand. He still had him cupped through cotton but it didn’t matter, Tony could feel how hard he was, how much precome he was leaking. 

“I’m a lot of work Steve,” he said as Steve lot out another soft little moan. 

“Fuck, Tony. I know that. Everyone knows that.” He leaned in, took Tony’s face in both hands and kissed him again. His chest was heaving a bit, his breathing going ragged, as Tony finally moved aside the cotton and curled a hand around his bare cock. Steve slammed his head back against the door and cried out at the touch. He was slick and hard in Tony’s hand and made perfect little sounds as Tony jacked him, in deft, quick strokes. He wanted to draw it out, make it last longer or make it more special, but Steve kept his hands tangled in Tony’s hair, and kept saying his name softly with his eyes shut, so Tony didn’t tease, only gave Steve what he wanted till he let out a soft cry and spilled hot and white all over Tony’s fist. 

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that,” Tony whispered.

They kissed again, slowly, as Steve came down. With his messy hand, Tony undid his own pants and pushed his aching erection along the flat of Steve’s stomach. Steve moaned at the touch and moved to take Tony in his hand, but Tony gently pushed his hand away. “Not yet,” he said. He fisted himself slowly as Steve watched, the head of his cock leaving little clear streaks across Steve’s belly. “All week,” he said, “I wanted to mark you. Make sure everyone knew you were mine.” 

Steve captured his mouth and pushed his tongue along the flat of Tony’s mouth until he was desperate for air. “Do it,” he said. He twined his fingers together with Tony’s and let Tony set the pace for what he liked. “Cover me with it,” he gasped into Tony’s mouth. “Go ahead, mark me.” Tony groaned at the need in Steve’s voice, the way he didn’t pull back or away from Tony and everything he wanted, but leaned into it, as desperate as he was. Tony stroked himself harder and faster, while Steve brushed his thumb in a circle over the wet head, whispering filthy things in his ear. ” He bit along Tony’s neck and Tony came with a sharp cry of pleasure, smearing wetness across both their clothes. 

Tony collapsed against him and Steve held him up with is arms. They were both sticky and wet, but Tony wasn’t inclined to move just yet. He rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, gaze falling into the living room. 

“You don’t have a fire place here,” Tony noticed, still a little out of breath. 

“No,” Steve said, nose buried in Tony’s hair. “Some things just cost too much.” 

He was going to have to fix that he thought. Either put one in Steve’s room at the compound, or add one in here. He’d buy the building if he had to to make it happen. 

He lifted his head from Steve’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I meant what I said. This is not going to be easy Steve.” 

Steve laughed and began to pull him towards the bedroom. 

“Nothing with you ever is.” 

Later, after they’d ruined the sheets and Steve lay sprawled naked across the bed, Tony’s hands began to wander again, stroking Steve’s back and petting his hair. This time, there was no reason to pull back, no need to stop.


End file.
